


Vengeance

by Elliana_Alder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Death, Demons, F/M, Romance, Tragedy, Violence, vengeance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:29:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3163016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elliana_Alder/pseuds/Elliana_Alder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years ago, you held your innocents in the palm of your hand. As you grew, however, that innocents slowly slipped away until there wasn't a trace remaining. Death was all around you, inching closer and closer to you. </p><p>The day came, when you became a hunter just like your parents before you. For an entire decade you go believing it was that simple. That you went around slaying the monsters hiding in the dark, following the footsteps of the ones who gave you life. </p><p>But you will see how much more it really is; how your life plays a key role in that vast and untamed world that is burning around you. </p><p> </p><p>"Born unto you is the spirit of vengeance"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vengeance

Every story has a beginning, this is yours.

Ten years ago

 

“(Y/N)!” A firm female voice called from a distance.

You lifted your head up from the hard covered book you had borrowed from the woman's personal library. You sat in a field filled with tall grasses, weeds and lovely wild flowers, the wind blowing gently; moving strands of your hair subtly around. Your eyes landed on a brunette woman who looked just a few feet tall from where she was standing on the porch of the roadhouse she owned.

“Yeah?” You shouted back, not wishing to get up from your place among the plants, underneath the warm May sun.

“Your father called, sweetheart! Please come inside!” She hollered a bit louder, hoping all her words would reach you clearly.

You said nothing, silence befalling the air around. It had been four very long days since you heard a single word from your father. He was on a hunting trip, despite your pleading he went alone. There was a point in time were he refused to take a job unless your mother was by his side; but six months ago, the most terrible event took place.

While raiding a Vampire nest, she was captured by the nest leader. He had her turned into one of them and then sent her to kill your father. When he found her, she begged him to end her life. He came back from that hunt with your mother's body and head in the backseat of his 72' Plymouth Roadrunner. Ever since that day he has hunted alone and you knew just how hard it was on him without her. You still stayed with your mother's best friend Ellen Harvelle, every time your father went away; her being the only person he trusted.

You forced yourself off the ground, dusting the little patches of dirt off your light washed denim jeans. Folding the corner of the page you stopped on, you shut the book and made your way down to the old looking wooden bar. Which, due to the time of day, had no one but the Harvelles and you to occupy its space.

You had just turned eleven seven months ago, so a roadhouse was hardly the place for you to spend all your time. But luckily, the bikers and other hunters didn't start showing up till much later. It took you about a minute and a half to reach the screen door that lead into the roadhouse.

You pulled it open and immediately your nostrils were filled with the smell of hard whiskey and polished wood. Ellen was standing behind the bar, counting the money in the cash register. Sitting on a bar stool was an eight year old girl with her golden blonde hair pulled back into a tight pony tail. She wore a pair of denim shorts and a button up cream colored T-shirt with her favorite pair of dark brown cowgirl boots she had gotten for Christmas.

Her head turned as she heard the sound of the door open. “(Y/N), your Dad is coming home!” She grinned widely.

Her name was Jo Harvelle. You had watched her as a new born baby and ever since she has been your best and only friend. She hopped down from the stool and ran over to you, grabbing your hand that didn't contain literature and held it in her still significantly smaller ones.

“My daddy will be home soon too! He promised he'd help me with my bow and arrow!” Jo chimed, you looked down at her and gave her a sincere smile.

“You'll be great at it, I just know it.” You replied, taking your gaze off Jo and letting it land back on Ellen.

“When did he say he'd be here?” You questioned, letting go of Jo's little hands and strolling over to the bar counter.

Ellen took her eyes of the cash that was in her hands. “Should be here in about ten-ish minutes.”

You nodded and slid onto a bar stool, placing the cherry oak colored book down in front of you. Ellen reached into a small mini fridge she kept hidden underneath the counter and pulled out a bottled Coca-Cola. She cracked it open with a bottle opener before placing it down on the surface next to the book.

“Thank you, Ellen.” You smiled lightly at her before taking a few sips of the cold and refreshing liquid.

Jo joined you as you watched Ellen finish cleaning up the bar, getting it ready for when she opened the Roadhouse. It was quite apparent that she was thrilled her father, Bill Harvelle, would be coming back seeing as he had been gone for nearly two weeks on his hunting trip.

Minutes later your ears picked up the sound of a car door shutting. You sat up straight and turned your body so that you could easily see the front door. After a few seconds it opened and in walked your father. His face held that grim look that he constantly wore since your mother died. But despite his ominous mood, you leaped from your seat to attack him with a tight hug.

He pulled you in as your arms wrapped around his torso. You could feel the tension in his muscles receding as he let out what seemed to be a sigh of relief. He placed a hand on top of your head and stroked your silky (h/c) strands of hair that for once you had out of a ponytail.

“I missed you so much, (Y/N).” He breathed heavily, tightening his grip around you before pushing you away and placing his hands on your shoulders.

“I missed you too, Dad.” You grinned joyfully, hoping you'd get one in return. But as you expected, you didn't. Though his expression had heartened.

His eyes wandered off you, landing on Ellen who had come from behind the counter to greet him. “Hello, Ellen.”

“Good to see you in one piece.” Ellen nodded at him and handed him a small wad of cash.

He accepted it but not without shaking his head. “You know, I'm supposed to pay you for watching her. Not the other way around.”

Ellen placed a hand on her hip and flashed her trademark smirk. “You need it more than I do and we both know that.”

Your father nodded gratefully before addressing you again. “(Y/N). Why dontcha come sit down with me for a minute. I need to talk to ya about somethin.”

You happily followed him to a small round table about as far away from the bar as possible. He patted the seat across from him, gesturing for you to take a seat there. You did as he asked and found yourself looking directly at him in question as you place yourself in a large wooden chair with armrests.

“What is it?” You asked, placing your hands in your lap and tilting your head slightly to the side.

“Well, I know that you are still pretty young and that what I do is dangerous. But I need a partner out there. It just isn't the same without...” He paused momentarily, most likely to choke back his emotions. “Without your mother. I would like to train you and bring you along on my hunts. I'm not going to force you into this life. But if you want to, I am willing to make you a great hunter.”

With his last words a smile threatened to show itself on his lips. You felt your stomach drop. For years you had wanted to go on a hunt. But each time you asked, they said no. So instead you stayed at the Roadhouse and read every book Ellen had on all type of monsters and gods.

Without having to give it a second thought, you nodded. “Of course!”

“Wow, I didn't think you'd be so eager.” He raised his eyebrow for a moment before his face washed over with a serious expression. “(Y/N), this is very dangerous. Your mother died on a hunt, I want you to know how important this is. A monster does not care that you are a child. They will try to kill you.”

“Dad, I've spent every minute that I wasn't helping Ellen around the Roadhouse, researching about what you do. I can recite by heart how to kill countless monsters and summon god or demons. The only thing I don't have is field experience.” Your smile faded as you became resolute.

He watched you carefully for a moment and saw just how confident you were. After a minute, he nodded in agreement. “Alright, I will train you up and take you on your first hunt.”

Your father saw the sparkle in you eye as he spoke those words, this was finally your chance to show him that you were your fathers daughter. In your eyes, he was the greatest hunter around. You wanted nothing more than to prove you were just like him.

“But, I'm going to warn you. For a while I won't be taking you on anything too dangerous. Not until I know you are ready for it, that is.” He added in, hoping you truly knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Don't worry. With you teaching me, I'm sure it won't be long before we can take on anything together!” You beamed with aplomb, gazing at your father with a certain amount of composure that made him believe right then and there, that you would some day be a exceptional hunter.

 

 

Thirteen years later, present day

 

“Mrs. Evans, can you please describe what you saw out there?” You plastered a serious expression on your face as you attempted to get answers from an eye witness to a so called “bear” attack up by a lake not far out from a small town in Montana.

“I...You won't believe me even if I told you! The sheriff didn't, I don't see why the FBI would.” The middle aged woman with scarlet red hair was sitting on a beige couch in her home, her voice was horse as if she smoked several packs of cigarettes a day.

You let out a sigh, you tired greatly of hearing that phrase. If it weren't for the fact that you knew almost all of the world was unaware of what lurked in the shadows, you'd probably go insane every time someone said it. Instead, you forced a calm and reassuring smile for her. Just like you always would.

“Helen, I know it seems like no one will listen to you. But the FBI does much more than normal murder cases. I've dealt with things you couldn't imagine. Why don't you run it by me.” Your voice came out like silk, the years had been unbelievably kind to you.

It was a moment before she nodded reluctantly and began to speak. “My husband and I were out staying in our cabin out by the lake. It was peaceful but I thought I kept seeing a girl, a ghastly looking girl. Wasn't until later did I see her again, she was standing over my husbands shredded body. Her eyes were filled with rage.”

“Did you recognize this girl?” You questioned, more intrigued than you had been when you arrived.

“I did, actually. She was our neighbors seventeen year old daughter, Alice Butler. But it couldn't have been her. Alice died in the lake two years ago. It was the first time we had been up there since then.” Helen spoke, the uncertainty in her eyes.

“So you believe you saw the ghost of Alice murder your husband?” You asked, something fishy had definitely gone on between her husband and this girl. This case sounded exactly like a vengeful spirit.

“It doesn't make an sense! Ghost don't exist right?!” Helen raised her voice slightly as horror struck her features like lightning.

“No, they don't.” You stood and unwrinkled your suit jacket. “Thank you, Mrs. Evan. I believe I have all that I need now. I'm very sorry for your loss.”

With that you left the giant red Georgian style brick house. Making your way down the walkway to the street were your black 72' Plymouth Roadrunner sat next to the curb. You patted the hood of the car while you rounded the other side and slid into the drivers seat. As you shoved the key into the ignition and turned it, the beast roared to life. It was a sound that never ceased to put a smile on your face.

Putting it into drive you departed for your home base, a small, piece of shit motel that was barely standing on its own. The tiny Montana town hardly had much of a selection to offer. The sun would be going down soon and you hadn't had a single bite to eat all day. As you thought about it, your stomach rumbled viciously like it was waiting for a cue.

You decided it was time you filled the tank. Working took an astonishing amount of energy. Since the town wasn't all that big, it didn't take long to find a cute little diner that didn't seem like it was run by serial killers.

As you entered the smell of onions and freshly cooked meat filled your nostrils and you noticed there wasn't very many costumers, maybe four or five. You shrugged off any questions that were starting to surface in your mind, being a hunter made you over think any possible situation. When you got to counter you sat at an empty bar stool that was padded with a terrible green cushion. Not long after were you greeted by a cute boy who looked to be about eighteen maybe nineteen. He had blonde shaggy hair that clearly hadn't been brushed and hazel eyes with a color that resembled gold lining the outside. He was tall and his slender body fit the navy uniform splendidly.

He flashed you a polite toothy smile. “What can I do for you, Miss?”

You pulled your phone out of your blazer pocket and glanced over the menu before ordering a burger with everything and a side a fries. You watched him walked away, catching a glance at his name tag. 'COLE'.

“Hey, Cole.” You began, catching his attention while he gave your order to the cook in the kitchen behind him.

The boy turned around and looked at you, at first he seemed just slightly confused. Before he looked down at his shirt and realized he was wearing his name on a gold colored plate on his chest.

“Is there something else you need?” He questioned, returning to his previous spot in front of your stool.

“Yeah, actually. Do you know anything about Alice Butler?” He raised his eyebrow at your sudden inquiry.

“I went to high school with her but I didn't really know her. Why are you asking? It's clear you aren't from around here.” He stated, pointing out how sharply dressed you were compared to everyone else.

Your gaze trailed from his sharp hazel eyes down to your blazer, which you held open as you pulled out your FBI ID badge. You opened it up and set it on the counter. Sure it had your picture in it but 'Dakota Harvey' was definitely not your name.

“I'm investigating a murder of Peter Evans. I heard about Alice's death and you seem about how old she'd be now. If there is anything you know about the incident, it would be much appreciated.” You spoke while sliding back into its place, hidden away from sight.

The boy's muscles instantly became visibly tense. Which caused you to raise your eyebrow in curiosity. Just by his reaction you could infer that the death of Alice and the murder of Peter were more than just connected.

“Um, well, I wasn't there or anything but everyone around here knows how she died. Or rather was killed.” He started.

You straightened your posture, perking up a bit as he began to tell you things the others had failed to mention. Placing your elbows on the bar counter, you leaned forward; showing him with your body language that his story intrigued you.

“Alice and her parents lived up by the lake. They were nice people from what I remember. The Evans owned a small house right next to them. They ended up being really good friends. One day Alice was out swimming in the lake. Mr. Evans was out fishing in his boat when he saw her. I don't know why but he ran her over before she knew he was there and his propeller tore her to shreds.” Cole ended with a slight shudder.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “So he did it on purpose? It wasn't simply an accident?”

Cole shook his head and pursed his lips. “I wish it was on accident. Supposedly he denied everything to the police but Mr. Kennedy saw him do it! He lives across the lake from the Evans and he watched Mr. Evans go out of his way to run her over. Its sad because no one believes him.”

“Why would Mr. Evans kill Alice?” You questioned, the story getting more and more complex and irrational by the minute.

That was when Cole shrugged his shoulders. His name was called as your order popped up over the half wall that separated the kitchen from the serving area. He placed it down in front of you before looking you in the eyes.

“Listen Agent Harvey, be careful out there. We don't need another death on our hands. The lake property tends to be very dangerous.” He spoke softly, leaning forward so that no one else could hear him.

“Thanks for the warning, Kid. But I can handle myself pretty well.” You smiled lightly at him, picking up a crispy french fry and sticking it into your mouth.

Cole nodded and left, attending to a new arriving customer. You ate in peace, listening to the classic rock station that played over your head and the faint sound of conversation between the others that were scattered about the diner.

After finishing you headed out, paying with a credit card that was hardly credible. In your line of work you didn't get paid much and everything you needed tended to add up quickly.

You entered the safety of your motel room. Its single queen sized bed taunting you with its peaceful aura. Sadly, you still had work that must be done. You were more of a field worker. Research wasn't something you fancied in the slightest.

Despite dreading to, you pulled out your laptop and began to browse the web for articles and stories on the death of Alice Butler. All the online police reports were vague and it seemed that Peter Evans wasn't even blamed for the murder.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and gazed at the glowing blue screen. It wasn't a local number that was for sure. As a matter of fact you knew the number all too well. It was the number for the Roadhouse that you grew up in.

Clicking the green button, you pressed the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“(Y/N)!” Ellen's worried voice spoke harshly through the speaker.

“What is it, Ellen? I'm in the middle of a case.” You replied, pressing your head to your shoulder to hold the phone as you continued your work.

“How fast can you get to Red Lodge, Montana?!” Her words were hasty, causing you to question her reason for calling you.

“I'm about twenty minutes away, actually. But, listen Ellen. I'm already on a case so you are going to have to call up another hunter. Try Bobby, I'm sure-” Ellen didn't let you finish your sentence before cutting you off.

“No other hunter is going to want this. (Y/N), you told me to call you if anything on Gordon ever popped up. Well as luck would have it, I know exactly where he is.”

As she said those words your hands dropped from the computer. The image of a once old friend flashed through your mind. Rage instantly boiling deep inside you.

“I'm guessing Red Lodge.” You replied, your own voice grew emotionless.

“Yes. John Winchester's boys stumbled upon him on a case there. Sam, his youngest called me asking for information on him. It seems his older brother trusts Gordon a little too much.” Ellen answered calmly.

“Where are they in town?” You questioned, shutting your laptop and packing up your guns that were scattered about on the table.

“Their motel is right next to the automotive shop. I told Sam I was sending someone over, he knows your coming. But I didn't tell him why.” She spoke.

“Thank you, Ellen. I'll report in when I've taken care of the situation.”

“(Y/N). Be careful, you and Gordon have a rough past that the Winchester boys aren't aware of. Don't let them get in the way. I know them, they can be dangerous.” She warned you with a sincere tone. The same tone a mother would give to her child.

“Yeah, I've heard the stories. I'm not all that worried about them. If they do become a problem, I'll handle it.” You nodded, though you knew full well she couldn't see it.

With that you hung up the phone and threw the rest of your possessions into a bag. Before going you slipped out of your 'FBI' uniform. Throwing on a pair of ripped light washed blue jeans that were rolled up a couple of inches, a pair a black combat boots, a white V neck T-shirt, and a black leather jacket.

You ran out the door and loaded yourself into the black beauty parked outside. Hauling ass to get to the next town before Gordon slipped away.

As you entered the rain coated town, you drove slow; hoping not to draw any attention if Gordon happened to be lurking around town. You pulled into a parking lot next to the only automotive shop in town and found two young men arguing outside. Instantly you came to the conclusion that this was who Ellen had told you about. You had never had the pleasure of meeting them before. Parking the car, you stepped out and leaned up against your pride and joy. Waiting a moment to hear what they were saying.

“If its supernatural we kill it. End of story, that's our job!” The shorter one with the sharp jawline and a worn brown leather jacket vociferated.

“No, Dean. That is not our job! Our job is hunting evil. And if these things aren't killing people than they are not evil!” The taller one with shaggy brown hair shouted back, clearly flustered with 'Dean'. He, from what you had heard was the younger of the two.

“Of course they're killing people, that's what they do! They are all the same, Sam! They're not human. Okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them.” Dean replied furiously, opening his arms as a gesture of verbal defense.

“No, Dean! I-I don't think so, alright? Not this time.” Sam answered, trying to reason with his older brother. Just listening to this conversation you had concluded that Sam was already your favorite of the two.

Dean lowered his voice slightly and pointed back behind him. “Gordon's been on those vamps for a year, man. He knows.”

You frowned just at the mention of his name but hearing it meant he really was here. You were about to go interrupt the brotherly bonding moment when Sam opened his mouth to speak again.

“Gordon?”

Dean nodded. “Yes.”

“You're taking his word for it?!” Sam questioned, it was obvious he could believe what he was hearing. “Ellen says he's bad news!”

“You called Ellen?” Dean looked at his brother with an overly irritated expression.

Sam nodded and pursed his lips together.

“And I'm supposed to listen to her. We barely know her, Sam. No thanks, I'll go with Gordon.” Dean stated his side.

That's when you decided you would no longer listen to their petty little argument. You stepped forward, crossing your arms and radiating a serious mien.

“Oh but you really should listen to Ellen, sweetheart.” You uttered, drawing the attention of the brothers.

Dean's eyes landed on you. “Who the hell are you?”

“You must be the person Ellen said she was sending.” Sam spoke up, causing Dean to flash him an enraged countenance.

“You had Ellen send someone?!” Dean raised his voice.

“Actually, no. You see, your friend Gordon and I have a bit of a past. Now, Ellen warned you he was dangerous. I just so happen to be the reason she says that.” You swayed slightly and let all of your weight fall on one side.

“Why should I care what you have to say? I don't even know who you are.” Dean quarreled, the harsh tone of his voice was making you consider knocking him out.

“My name is (Y/N). Your new pal, Gordon. Left me to die in a vamp nest 'bout a year ago; so that he could get away. He also endangered Jo by using her as bait on a hunt. He is in it for himself, and you are either going to believe me. Or you'll end up finding out for yourself.” You spat at Dean before turning to Sam.

“Where is he?” You continued, not wishing to waste any time.

Dean stepped forward, putting up his hands as he saw you were about to move. “Whoa whoa, wait. Why did he leave you in a vamp nest?”

Your eyes flashed back to Dean who was getting on your nerves. “Him and I were working a case in Las Vegas. We had tracked two fairly large groups of vamps back there. Turns out they were both apart of the same nest. But we decided to take them on instead of waiting for backup. In the end it was the wrong choice. There were way too many of them. We had taken out about half the vamps in that nest before I lost him. At first I thought they had captured him. Hoping I could save him, I tore up the place searching. Ended up taking the rest of the nest out in the process, nearly two dozen vamps. When I managed to get outside where we had parked his car, I found it was gone and so was he. ” You stopped uncrossing your arms and scowling deeply.

“How the hell did you take down that many vamps and not get hurt?” Dean questioned, not believing what you had to say.

You shook your head and scoffed. “You think I wasn't hurt?”

It amused you that a hunter was that stupid. Taking down that many vamps didn't come without a price. You pulled your jacket and top you shirt over enough to show one of your scars. It was a set of bite marks, the tissue was long since healed over but the skin was raised to the point it was visible. Then you proceeded lifted up your shirt, revealing a mark resembling a ten inch long gash that stretched from your right hip bone to about the middle of your torso.

“I nearly died. I was lucky I passed out of a main road going into the city rather than in that building. I woke up two weeks later in a hospital with head trauma. Gordon didn't even come back to see if I had survived. He left, and then vanished. This is the first time hes surfaced since then and I'm not going to let him slip away.” You terminated your explanation, giving them both a serious and fearless look.

“See, Dean! Ellen was right! We shouldn't trust him.” Sam pleaded, throwing his arm out in front of him and gesturing to you.

“Are you planning on killing him?” Dean asked, taking a half step back. It seemed by telling them your story you at least caught their attention.

“If it comes down to it, yes I will.” You nodded your head once, replying honestly before shoving your hands into the pockets of your leather jacket.


End file.
